


The People and Frank Castle

by egosoffire



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Gen Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-14 00:01:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7143824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/egosoffire/pseuds/egosoffire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank Castle encounters the people of Hell's Kitchen frequently, and finds many supporters in his world. A character study of Frank and six of his supporters.</p><p>Written for a Daredevil Kink Meme prompt here - http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/8423.html?thread=16556007#cmt16556007</p>
            </blockquote>





	The People and Frank Castle

**The Waitress**

Maria is thirty-three years old, a single mother, and works as a waitress in Hell's Kitchen. She struggles more often than not, but her two-year-old son Christopher never goes without. When she sees Frank Castle sitting in the booth at the back of the Westpointe Diner just after two in the morning, she knows who he is.  
  
"Hello," she says, approaching the booth with a warm smile. "My name's Maria. What can I get you?"  
  
He smiles. It's a surprisingly soft, genuine smile.  
  
"Maria," he says softly. "I love that name. Coffee, please. Black."  
  
She winces, looking down at the notepad in hand. Maria Castle. The wife. Of course.  
  
She quickly goes back to grab the coffee. Mel, the cook, has some apple pie he's about to throw out, and she grabs a slice of that too. She rips a page out of the notebook she carries and writes a quick message.  
  
  
Frank looks up and the waitress, the woman with his wife's name, walks away quickly. He sees a cup of coffee and a large piece of apple pie on the table in front of him. There's a check, with the note PAID on the bottom, as well as a neatly scrawled note.  
  
_Thank you for what you do._  
_Love Maria._

**The Shopkeep**

Rahul has owned a corner shop in Hell's Kitchen for twenty years. He's been there since he immigrated from India as a teen, and in spite of everything, Rahul loves the troubled neighborhood. He's seen it's ups and downs. Well, since The Incident, it's mostly been downs...  
  
It's his home.  
  
Frank Castle, the Punisher, bursts into his shop after 1am. Rahul is surprised, because even though he's open well into the night, the only people who usually come in are the drunks, the quiet prostitutes, or the police.  
  
"Oh," he says when he recognizes the man's face.  
  
"I need a restroom," says The Punisher, lowering his head, but Rahul can still see the bruises, the blood. He's not blind. "I just need to clean up real quick, man. Can I?"  
  
Rahul nods.  
  
"Bathroom is just over there," he says, gesturing to the other side of the store.  
  
The Punisher hurries along into the bathroom.  
  
Frank winces as he wipes the blood out of his left eye. He's bleeding from a rather nasty gash at the top of his head. It's rare that they give him a good fight, so he supposes that it's a good change. Hurts like hell, though.  
  
"Ahem."  
  
Frank turns around to see the man standing in front of him. He's an older Indian man with a gentle face.  
  
"Yeah?" he asks.  
  
The man hands over a white first aid kit. Well, he doesn't exactly hand it over. Instead, the shop owner lightly places the kit down on the counter top beside Frank and offers a tiny smile.  
  
"Use the white bottle on that head wound," he murmurs awkwardly. "It'll keep it from getting an infection."  
  
Frank nods.  
  
"Thank you."

**The Garbage Man**

Edgar Flores is a garbage man. He's been in sanitation for a decade and he doesn't mind it very much. He's not that sensitive to smell, and for the most part his routine suits his life very well. People have bad things to say about those in his position, of course, but Edgar ignores them. It doesn't matter to him, really. He's making an honest living and supporting two daughters and a wife whose disability keeps her work options limited to freelance writing. They're not a rich family by any means, but they get by, and he's never felt shame in his job.  
  
He finds Frank Castle near a dumpster on a Saturday evening. The moon is high in the sky and the streetlights flicker ominously.  
  
"Are you hurt?" he asks.  
  
"Busted up, but I'll survive," the man says. At first, Edgar has no idea who he's talking to, but then he sees him and recognizes him from the trial.  
  
"I know who you are."  
  
"Congratulations," The Punisher huffs, looking at him with an annoyed expression. "I'm getting out of here."  
  
"I'll give you a ride somewhere," Edgar offers. He knows that the man has a code and he gets it. Honestly, he'd never have the stomach to off even the worst criminal scum, but he gets why someone would. "Is there somewhere I can take you?"  
  
Castle's eyes flicker upward. It's like he judges Edgar's character, a split second judgement, really. Then, he nods slowly.  
  
"I have a house not far from here," he whispers. "Thank you."  
  
Frank watches the man in the driver's seat of the garbage truck. He's alert, watching the road, but he's nervous. He has a lot of reasons to be nervous.  
  
"Don't you usually have other guys with you in the truck?" he asks.  
  
"Yeah," the man says. "They left early and I was just running the truck back in, that's all."  
  
Frank then goes quiet, until he sees a kid's drawing on the top of a bag on the floor of the cabin.  
  
"Kids?" he asks.  
  
"Two girls, yeah," says the garbage man.  
  
"It's right here," Frank says, and the truck comes to a stop. "Take care of those girls, alright? Thank you."  
  
Then he leaves.

**The Child**

Sarah is twelve years old and a student at Carver Middle School. She's a shy seventh grader and hates the fact that she now has to walk home all the way from her new school. She especially hates it when she has drama club practice and has to come home when it's starting to get dark.  
  
The guys are big, hulking grown men with guns. They don't even notice her there when the gunfire starts. It explodes all around her and she drops to the ground instinctively.  
  
Then there are more guns. Both of the two big men are on the floor and he's there, a single man with a gun of his own, but she knows that he's not out to hurt anyone except the ones who deserved it.  
  
"Kid, you okay?"  
  
She tries to speak, but she can't.  
  
The man takes her by the arm and draws her into an alleyway. She's terrified and can barely make a sound.  
  
"Can't tell the cops you saw me, okay? Those were just some gangbangers out for blood. I got the word they were headed this way and took 'em out. Tell them you don't know how it went down. Got it?"  
  
Sarah nods. She trusts him and she understands.  
  
Frank walks away, glad that he was there. He's not like the other ones that roam the street in costume. He's not in it to save the little guy, or so he tells himself. He's in it to make sure that shitbags who don't deserve to live stop breathing.  
  
Still, the girl remains on his mind for a little while. She was an awkward, sweet middle school student. It reminded him of Lisa, although she'd been younger when she died. Kids like that, they deserved better than to stumble into gang fights on the way home from school.

**The Prostitute**

Anna isn't exactly in love with what she does, but she's not in constant misery either. She's a prostitute and what she does is just a job. She's making a living like anyone else in the world.  
  
She knows the danger, however, and she walks home from her job quickly, one hand on the weapon she carries for her own safety.  
  
He runs straight into her.  
  
"Get out of the way!" he yells. She stumbles to the ground, immediately drawing her weapon out of instinctive fear. She watches as the man runs off, runs towards something.  
  
Curiosity gets the best of her.  
  
She knows better than to follow, but she does anyway, peering around the corner. She watches him as he beats the ever loving hell out of someone, all fists and fury.  
  
"You tell me where it is or I have no issue blowing a hole in your head," he growls to the prone figure in front of him.  
  
"I'm not involved," gasps the man underneath him. "They don't tell me nothin' man, I promise...Please."  
  
"You never killed for him?"  
  
"Never, I swear it," he breathes out, his words exhaled with pain. "I just had to do it. P-please."  
  
The man - oh God, it's The Punisher - slams his victim back down against the dirt.  
  
"Get out of here!" he yells. "Go, now..."  
  
He doesn't hesitate and runs.  
  
"I know you're watching me," he says, and she makes herself known. She knows better than to try to hide. "What the hell do you want?"  
  
"I just don't understand why you let him go," she whispers. "I know who you are and what you do."  
  
"He's small time," Frank says. "He's never taken a life. I know he's not lying to me. Sometimes people get stuck in situations they can't help. Kid like that's gotta be aware, though, that when you cross a line, you cross it."  
  
She nods.  
  
"And come on," says Frank Castle, The Punisher, the one that everyone admires or fears, "that piece you're carrying is too heavy and has too much of a kick for a girl your size. Go to Jackson's on Broadway. Tell him you're on the street and need something to protect yourself. He'll cover you."  
  
"Got it..." she says.

**The Nurse**

Natalie is a nurse and has been for twenty-five years. She loves the job, and loves the people, but at the same time cannot avoid the strain it causes on her both physically and mentally. She leaves her shift feeling utterly drained, body aching. She heads out to the parking lot and is halfway to her car when she hears a whimper from behind one of the supply vans.  
  
"Is someone there?" she asks, and carefully flicks on the flashlight on her cell phone. The light bounces against the shadows and something moves. "Hi...if you're hurt, maybe I can help."  
  
The whimper deepens into something stronger, more masculine.  
  
"I'm hurt," whispers the voice. She steps around the van and finds him leaning against it. "I'm hurt, and I can't go in..."  
  
Immediately, she recognizes him. He's Frank Castle. He's the Punisher. Natalie herself was saddened when he was initially sentenced. She could tell, from what she knew, that he was a good man who did what he had to.  
  
"Let me see."  
  
At her command, he takes his hand from his stomach and she can see the deep wound. It appears to have missed anything vital, but that is just from her initial once-over in a parking lot. There is very little that can be done without a medical facility, but she has enough at home to at least clean and stitch the wound.  
  
"Okay, here's what's going to happen," she says, plainly. "I'm unlocking a silver car two rows down right now. As soon as it's unlocked, you go and you get in the back seat. I'm taking you to my apartment and patching you up. You got it?"  
  
He looks like he's going to protest, but he doesn't. Natalie can see the shock in his eyes. Obviously, The Punisher has never dealt with the strange breed that is a nurse in a neighborhood like Hell's Kitchen. He underestimates her, like they always do.  
  
He nods.  
  
-  
  
Frank is amazed at the skill the nurse shows. She's gentle, thorough and looks at him with a tired expression when she's done and promises, "You'll be alright sweetheart." She talks to him like he's a thirteen year old with a broken leg, not a mass-murderer.  
  
"I don't know what to say to you," he warns her, because there's really no way that he can thank her for what she's done.  
  
"Don't say anything," she says, and he gets a look at her. She's older, and looks exhausted, but there's a strength in her that is unlike anything he's ever seen. "I don't agree with a lot of what you've done, but I understand it. I've lost people too. This city takes lives left and right, and is full of terrible, terrible souls. I may not entirely agree with you, but I understand you and I wanted to help. Now, lie down, get some rest. I need to go to sleep, okay?"  
  
"Okay."  
  
Frank sleeps for a few hours on her couch. He then checks in on the woman and sees that she's sleeping soundly in her bedroom. He doesn't feel good enough to move, but at least he knows that he won't bleed out right away. He leaves her home, and thinks about the people of Hell's Kitchen.  
  
He's not a good man and he knows it. He's not Daredevil, and he doesn't want to do this to help the helpless. He wants to rid the city of evil, yes, but mostly because those bastards deserve justice. Still, he knows that the people matter. He can't deny that the people matter, when the people keep him going. For every terrible individual, there are three good ones, and that means something.  
  
He's not sure what, but it means something.


End file.
